


Various TES and ESO drabbles and Oneshot collection 2020

by HircinesHuntingGround



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Elder Scrolls: Blades
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 13,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22458166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HircinesHuntingGround/pseuds/HircinesHuntingGround
Summary: Various drabbles and oneshots dither from original plot or prompts!
Relationships: Felawen/Original Male Character(s), Henrik Seven-Swords/Original Female Character(s), Kor/Original Female Character(s), Lyranth/Female Vestige, Lyranth/Original Female Character(s), Lyris Titanborn/Female Vestige, Mercer Frey/Original Female Character(s), Walks-Softly/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 60
Kudos: 26





	1. A Troubled Past (pt 1) [Nyla Iron-Breaker]

“Nyla. I need you to go to this cross roads and scout out the caravan. If there's only a few people, kill them and take the valuables…”

Nyla turned her head towards her sister. The beads in her dreaded red hair clattered together. She pursed her lips and opened her mouth to say something but shut it instead. She nodded. She rubbed her gloved hands together and let out a silent sigh. Better to listen to what her sister told her.

“Good… I know I can count on you. And don't take too long. Keldric and the others will come to help if you need it.”

Nyla nodded. She grabbed her sword and bow and made her way to the crossroads. Caravans were constantly coming up the road to make it towards Windhelm, delivering goods and produce to the city. This was advantageous to the bandit group she was a part of. With her sister being the leader, one would assume she was treated better than the other lackeys, but it was the opposite for Nyla. 

Nyla ground her teeth as she watched over the caravan from a ledge. It hadn't made it to the crossroads yet. Only two guards and two merchants. She felt a pit in her stomach as she nocked an arrow. 

She hated this.

One of the guards fell forward with a scream when the arrow pierced through his leg. The other guard turned, looking for the source of the arrow. He yelled something to the merchant on the carriage, who urged the horses forward.

Nyla cursed as she nocked another arrow. Sister would be mad if she let this carriage go! Nyla let loose the arrow, missing her target. She cursed again, throwing the bow over shoulder. She would deal with the guard with her sword. Nyla clambered down the icy ledge, sword in hand, and charged at the guard. 

She swung her blade down. She groaned when the guard parried her sword. She ducked down as he swung his sword over her head.

She fell back when he kicked her in the chest. She coughed as she tried to catch her breath. 

Nyla grabbed a handful of snow and threw it in the guard’s face. Instinct forced him to shut his eyes and she took that opportunity.

Nyla ground her teeth as she tried to ignore the gurgled cries from the guard. She wiped her blade off before sheathing it. The carriage was nearly out of sight at this point. She saw a horse run alongside the carriage.

Her sister.

Nyla sighed heavily. She was done for at this point. If her sister had to come out here and help, Nyla was as good as dead to her.

Could she afford to run?

Last time she tried… Nyla shuddered at the thought.

She looked up as she heard a crash and scream. The carriage toppled over. Her sister quickly dismounted her horse. Nyla looked away. She felt that pit in her stomach again. Anger. Sadness. Empty. She felt sick.

Her insides tangled. Tightened. Twisted. Was she actually going to be sick?

She felt a knot in her throat. 

She was done.

She couldn’t do this again.

Nyla ran. Ran as far as she could. Ran until night fell and the dawn rose. The bitter Skyrim morning bit at her face.

Where had she gone? The Rift? Was she safe? 

Nyla collapsed on the roadside. Her body ached. Her lungs were on fire. Her feet were bricks. There was no way she would move now. She leaned back on the frost covered grass and panted, trying to even her breath.

She looked up when she heard footsteps. Riften guards.

“You’ve committed crimes against Skyrim and her people. What say you in your defense?” The hold guard held his sword towards Nyla.

Nyla stared at them. She couldn’t fight them all. “Take me to prison.” She couldn’t escape her bounty nor her past. 

But she was done with that life.

“I’ll make sure any stolen belongings are taken from your person. You’ll also be spending a long time in prison.” He tied Nyla’s hands up after removing her weapons. “Let’s go, criminal.”


	2. A New Champion [Nabar at-Amjad]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt ‘Someone accepting the bad parts of you without judging’. I took it liberally and just went with acceptance in general. Because Nabar is a baby.

“You dare come back to my side after contracting that vile darkness?!” 

The statue of Meridia shined brighter than the sun. I shielded my face from the light and gulped. The rays caused a burn on my bare flesh where it landed. I winced. “I killed the vampire clan as you commanded, my lady. I unfortunately have contracted the virus. I had hoped my lady would—“

“Why would I cure you of your filth? You are not worthy of being my champion any longer…”

I felt a rage boiling in my stomach. Searing, hot rage. After everything I have done for her. After the selfless time and years I’ve given to devoting her. To completing her commands. Killing necromancers. Vampires. The Undead. I broke my oath as a Redguard in her name. I was worse than the Ash’Abah to any other mortal. 

Dawnbreaker burned in my hand. No! I couldn't drop it or let go of it! It was my right as a Champion. “My Lady of Light! Please wait! If I cure it—“

“I am taking Dawnbreaker from you.”

“No! Please, Lady Meridia…” Heat seared through the daedric artefact in my hand. I felt my heart in my limbs. Pinpricks of heat on my left side. The light from the statue grew brighter. Was that even possible? How? It felt like the sun was next to me. 

It was unbearable.

I loosened the grip on the hilt of the Dawnbreaker. It fell to the floor.

Light filled the room.

Fire filled my mind. 

Hot, searing pain.

I don’t want to die. Not today.

Please!

I offered a silent prayer to my lady.

Ignored. 

The heat grew more intense. Was it possible that the light grew brighter? It was blinding.

Then there was nothing.

Darkness. Pain. 

I felt cold. 

I offered a quick prayer as looked up at the statue of Meridia. It cracked. The cold grew more intense. A welcomed feeling compared to the searing burns on my body.

“The mortal wishes to hand over his soul and body to his mistress’ arch nemesis?” A booming voiced loomed over me. It laughed. “I guess Meridia has forsaken even her own champion… what can you offer me?”

I struggled to open my mouth. “My soul is yours. I am a vampire. One of your children now. I will offer my body up to you.”

“Revenge?”

“One day when the time is right. Until then, use me as you see fit. Whether I am your champion or not…”

The voiced hummed. “There are certainly worse masters than me… very well. I’ll accept you.” The voice laughed again.

My body lurched. I closed my eyes. It felt colder than before. I shivered from the cold. The pain from the burn slowly dissipated. Did he also heal me? When I opened them, I looked around. 

Coldharbour.

My heart pounded in my ears. I felt an unimaginable thirst. Like I was stranded in the desert for days. The vampirism. He forced it to accelerate.

I shook with silent laughter, that eventually had sound. I must sound mad. I am mad. I offered myself up to the God of Schemes. He accepted me. I just betrayed my first Daedric Prince. I could do it again.

Yet he accepted these conditions.

Perhaps he was correct about other masters being worse than him?

“A gift. To my newest addition.” I looked up. A green mace hovered down next to me. “Wield it well. Wield it in my name… Punish those who have betrayed you. Punish those who have yet to betray you.”

I hesitated. I closed my eyes and grabbed the mace. It was cold and heavy. A burden. Lighter than Dawnbreaker though.


	3. Horrible Lookout [Walks-Softly/Naarchel]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from ongoingaccident for my disaster elf.

Walks-Softly wandered the packed streets of Abah’s Landing marketplace. He pretended to be on the hunt for some rare artifacts when in fact he was lookout. His eyes darted over to the small bosmer, expertly picking several pockets as she passed. So far everything was going smoothly. She brushed her hand against her antler, signaling she was finished.

The argonian rubbed his chin and met up with the elf in a nearby alley. She slumped against the building in the shade. She looked at him and frowned. Uh oh. Did he miss another signal?

“There were guards coming up around you, Walks.” She puffed her cheeks. “If they’d seen me or you…” She stood up and messed with the lapels of his shirt. “You were too busy keeping your eyes on me and not the other people.”

Walks scratched his cheek and laughed. “I’m sorry, Naarchel.” He grabbed her hands. “You were able to keep your cool though.” He placed her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Do you want to continue or…” He messed with a lock of her hair, fixing it as it had wrapped around her antler.

Chel shook her head. “Not with you as my lookout!” She laughed. “Let’s take a break. Sell this stuff to Anbi? This afternoon perhaps we can go again. I feel like I can handle more…”

“Perhaps you can go on the next heist?”

Chel looked at him, blinked, and then shook her head. “No. No… No heists. Not yet.” She closed her eyes and then leaned against Walks’ chest. “I know I’m not ready for that.”

Walks ran his claws through her hair. “Well, I won’t let anything bad happen to you. You know that.” He rested his head on hers and sighed. “You did really good today. I’m proud of you. It won’t be long until you get back into the swing of things. I’ll be here. You know the Guild will help.”

“Maybe not Velsa.” They both chuckled. “Let’s get back to the Den.”


	4. But why’s the rum gone? [Mercer/Ragna]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from my friend, Searofyr. ‘do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are?’

Ragna sat down at a small table outside, joining Mercer for a nighttime drink. She reached over and grabbed his bottle of wine. She took a long drink and handed it back to him. She grimaced and pursed her lips. She shivered as the liquid burned through her stomach. “Disgusting...”

“If you don’t like it, why’d you drink some, dumbass?” Mercer moved the bottle as she tried to grab it again.

“The rum’s gone.” She pouted and crossed her arms. “I thought I had some hidden. But, it’s gone.” She sighed.

“Stop drinking so damn much then.” He took a sip of the wine. “There’s mead in the basement. Let your Nord side handle it. You’ll probably get drunk faster. That’s what your ass wants, right?” Mercer smirked and handed her the bottle.

“Yes. Wine isn’t going to get me drunk unless I drink the whole bottle. Or 2. And you’ve had a head start…” She grumbled while taking another drink.

“There’s always more wine. Hell, Ragna, we’ve got that whole keg from the Kingfords. Genuine Rivenspire Wine. Grown in that heart of the Reach.” He reached for his bottle and frowned when he felt how light it was. “Damn it, Ragna.” He sighed and ran his hand through his graying hair. She leaned over on her hands and simply smiled. He finished the bottle off and set it on the table. “I suppose you want me to get a new bottle for us?”

“Please? I’ll make it worthwhile.”

Mercer smirked and shook his head. “I doubt it. But I need some more to deal with your ass.” He walked back into the house from their patio.

Ragna leaned back and watched the sky grow darker. She’d missed the Auroras back in Skyrim, but Glenumbra was now their home. And it treated them very well. Especially after everything that happened back in Skyrim. She missed the climate the most, but they received an estate in northern Daenia. It rained enough to keep her scales pristine. She sighed as she watched the sky.

Mercer walked back outside. Two bottles of wine in his hand and a small bottle of rum he had stashed away for his personal use. He looked over at the woman that helped him finally escape that hellhole of the Riften ratways. The way the moon illuminated her face. Her pale blonde hair shifted in the breeze. Divines. He definitely wasn’t one to get sentimental. He sighed a little. He pressed the rum bottle on her cheek. She jumped. He laughed as he pulled his chair closer to her and sat down, uncorking the wine bottle with with his teeth.

“You hid some from me?” She smiled as she opened the bottle, a little disappointed at the small amount. But she happily downed the golden liquid.

“Man’s gotta have some real liquor from time to time. Especially, when you drink it all.” He took the rum bottle from her despite her minor protests, emptying the contents. “I’ll admit you have good taste.” She pouted. “Oh, don’t give me that look…” He put the bottle down and weaved his hand through her blonde hair, pulling her close to him. He kissed her rum flavored lips. “You know I’ll get you more… I’ll get an order put into Daggerfall tomorrow.” He ran his thumb across her cheek, admiring the way her iridescent scales sparkled in the moonlight. “Do you think the moons are jealous of how beautiful you are?” He kissed her again. Still tasting the rum on her mouth.


	5. Naming Scheme [Felawen/Raelinwynn]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by Searofyr for my new oc and his new wife! Had a discussion about pedigree hounds the altmer would have.... Afghan’s seem like the rather obvious choice for a large hound!  
> Felawen is an obscure npc in Summerset. She’s a babe and I love her. Raelinwynn is retired AD admiral, who finally got married like he wanted.

“What is this?” Raelinwynn looked up from his book at the white fluff ball terrorizing the carpet tassel. He put his book down on the side table and leaned over, grabbing the over excited fuzzball. It licked his face, messing up his short militaristic hair with its fluffy paws.

“A puppy. Are you becoming blind in your advanced age, dear husband?” His wife smiled and took the white puppy from his arms, sitting on the arm of his chair. “It was a wedding present from me to myself. Purebred Shimmerene sighthound. He’ll be a sleek hunter when he grows up.” She held the puppy up, admiring his fluffy white coat, that would one day grow into beautiful long locks, that any Altmer would be jealous of. 

“Yes. Hunter of slippers and robes. Ow…” He rubbed his ear after she flicked it. “Praytell, Fela, what do you plan on hunting?”

Felawen frowned and shrugged before placing the wiggling puppy back on the floor. “A new dress on sale perhaps? Waiting for that new book… Perhaps he can hunt out the author, so I can get her to write more…” She laughed and leaned over on Raelinwynn, running her hands through his hair. He shifted and wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her closer. “Maybe he can hunt for a new husband?”

He chuckled. “So soon?”

“I jest, Raelin.”

“I know...” He hummed into her chest. “I’m surprised we were able to get married fairly quick.”

Felawen messed with the end of her ponytail. “After Nafarion and Mother’s death…. The courtship process.”

Raelinwynn nodded. “We still needed to wait almost 2 years…. Too long.”

“I didn’t realize how extensive your family was… it took them forever to decide whether we could even match.”

“At least it wasn’t decades like you thought so long ago. We could’ve been fine if we’d eloped.” He chuckled.

“And become an aprax!?”

“Now, I am jesting, dear wife.” He looked at her and smiled. “So, this yapping cloud…”

“He does need a name.”

“Something short and easy.”

“Raelin! He’s a pedigree hound. I will not have you naming him Spot or Rexus. He needs a pedigree name.”

“So, traditional Altmer name??” His wife nodded at his question. “How about Faalefinlen?”

Felawen hitched at long name. “That’s a mouthful…”

“He was a fallen soldier. Took more pride in his looks. Every hair had its place. Good soldier.” Raelinwynn chuckled.

“We need something pedigree and perhaps a name we can call him. Soliryn. Thelinwyn. Lyndelista.”

Raelinwynn rubbed his chin and closed his eyes in thought. Felawen nearly shook her husband out of his trance but he opened his mouth. “Avarlamirielyn.” She nodded in approval. “Varlais or Varla. His white fur is rather striking like the stars.”

“Varla….” She repeated.

“Varla. Avarlamirielyn.”

“Perhaps, I should leave the naming of our children to you as well.” She kissed his temple and then went to sit on the floor with the newly named Varla. Raelinwynn leaned over on the arm of his chair and watched them.


	6. Perfection [OC/OC Altaire/Kestrel]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Altaire belongs to my great, amazing friend Cat, ongoingaccident and yall should follow her!

“You’re perfect.”

Altaire blinked, staring in the direction of Kestrel, the blonde hair Breton thief. Her mouth gaped open like a fish. “Come again?”

“I said you’re perfect.” Kestrel covered her reddening face even though Altaire couldn’t see it. She groaned and leaned back in the chair.

“What’s this?” The Imperial laughed. She ran her hand through her flame colored hair and grinned. “You think I’m perfect? Did I hear that right?”

“I know your hearing is fine…” Kestrel mumbled. She frowned and pulled at her own hair. She watched Altaire in the dim light of the Ragged Flagon’s torches, causing her orange hair to appear more red in the flame light.

“I think that’s starting to go now that you’ve opened your mouth, Kestrel. What am I going to do with you?”

“Both of you could shut up for once.” Vex yelled from the other side of the Flagon.

“Why don’t you come make us?”

Vex stood up and walked over. She slammed her hand on the table, causing Kestrel to yelp. “Shut. The. Hell. Up.”

“Hey, you come here often?” Altaire leaned over on her elbow.

“Only to kick your ass.” Vex waved as she walked away.


	7. Propositions for a Soiree [Mercer Frey/Ragna]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Searofyr prompted me for a soiree with Mercer and Ragna after a discussion and their newly fond noblehood. basically, I have no idea what Im doing and im not sorry.

“What the hell is this, Ragna?” Mercer eyed the piece of paper in front of him. Ragna sat on his desk, innocently inspecting the scales on her hand. “How many kegs is this?” He counted out the numbers on the paper and sighed. He placed the paper back on his deck, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his temples. “Are you asking for payment to behave at our party so we don’t lose face?”

“Payment? Divines, no. I’ll need you to bribe me.” She looked at him. All smiles.

He sighed and ran his hand through his graying hair. Oblivion. “You already have a keg and several bottles of Stros M’Kai rum. The Maormer made alcohol?”

“The Sea Serpent’s Bite. It’s made from seaweed.” Ragna leaned towards him.

“I don’t care what it’s made from. I can’t believe you like it. It’s hard to find any Sea Elves selling it nowadays.” He pushed her away from him. “And what’s this part? Five kisses and a shot of the seaweed drink for holding proper conversation?”

“I think it’s fair.”

“How?”

“Don’t you want to kiss the missus?” She arched and eyebrow.

He stared at her and shook his head. “I don’t. We have to be a good host. I can’t have you starting rumors about us. Not after we’ve finally gotten recognized.”

“While I’d prefer that we sneak away mid party to suffice my needs in the parlor, I can accept payment at a later date. After the party? In the bedroom.”

Mercer stared at her and then sighed. “What in Oblivion are going on about?”

“Look, do you want me to behave or not?”

Mercer stood up and grabbed the back of her head, tugging on her hair. She squeaked from the shock. “Ragna. This isn’t a game.” He pulled her close and kissed her hard.

“I’m - making - it - one.” She said between kisses.

Mercer growled as he moved away. She rubbed the back of her head. “Fine. I’ll get those kegs for you. As for this…. everytime I hear a rumor about you, or you say the wrong thing…”

“Oh, what are we going to do?” She jumped off his desk. A smirk plastered on her face.

“I’ll be sharing your rum with the guests.”

Ragna pouted. “Mercer! That’s not fair. Can’t you come up with something else. Like, cornerclub punishments?”

Mercer scoffed. He looked at her, eyebrows raised. “You’d enjoy that too much. It has to be an appropriate punishment.”

Ragna grimaced, sighed, and then nodded, reluctantly. “Fine… I’ll behave with these conditions.”

He squinted at her. “I doubt that.”

“I’m capable of being honest. And behaving...” She laughed.

He shook his head, witholding a laugh. “What you think. Now, go get ready for that party. Do try to impress.”

Ragna raised her eyebrows. “Impress you or our lovely guests?”

“The guests. You can work on impressing me later.” He waved her away. She pouted and sighed as she left.

“The dinner was simply exquisite, Ragna. Please have your chef share the recipe with my Hubert. Maybe even some cooking lessons. He certainly has dulled with age…” A middle aged Breton woman chortled as she talked with Ragna and another noble woman.

“I’ll see what my husband has to say… He is rather protective of Shaw and Shaw’s secrets.” Ragna smiled, knowing full well that Mercer would not hand over their chef so easily or willingly. “But, I’ll let him know.”

“Speaking of your husband,” the woman leaned in closer, “how did you two meet? It’s always been a mystery to us. Him being a Breton noble, albeit, new to the scene. And no offense to your heritage, we just found it peculiar.” She nodded with the other women

Ragna smiled and laughed, though she had wanted to cause a scene. Politeness was needed for this party and politeness is what they would have. “We met in Skyrim. As you are all aware, my mother was a Nord. My father was the Maormer. I actually lived in Aldcroft most my life, only switching to the wetlands of Skyrim for business. Meadery.”

“So, you worked?”

“Oblivion, no.” Ragna covered her mouth and laughed. “I mainly dealt with finances. Helping the meadery gain revenue. Mercer… was a rival client? It’s a rather boring story, honestly.”

“Tell us.”

Ragna smirked slightly and then nodded. “Okay. We worked together.”

“But, you were rivals?”

“Hush! Clarisse! That’s romantic! And exciting.”

“We worked together, secretly, of course.”

“See Clarisse, exciting. Scandalous at the time. But your husband seems the strict type.”

Ragna laughed again. “It took some convincing him about anything. Working together…. courting each other…. As you can see, I can be rather convincing.”

“What happened to the meadery? Meaderies?”

“What meaderies?” She tilted her head and smiled innocently.

“Is this where your wealth came from?”

“Oh, no. That was family heirlooms and hard work. As you know, we helped the Galefords with their… issue.” The women nodded. “I’m sure some other families in Daenia started from the bottom. We are doing our best.”

“You both are doing splendidly, from having almost nothing to this estate now. And you can’t go a few steps without someone mentioning the Freys. Also, scandal free. Usually, these commoner nobles are filled with rumors and scandals.”

“Dear me, I told you about how we met…” Ragna placed her hand on her stomach and frowned.

“Pish posh. That’s hardly that scandalous. You’ve made a proper name for yourself. No bastard children. Actually no children yet. No affairs. Divines know my husband can’t be in the same room with another female if I’m not present.”

“I could never look at another man besides Mercer.” Ragna looked around the room to find her husband chatting with the men. He arched his eyebrows at her. She shook her head and went back to her conversation.

“That’s something you don’t see often… speaking of him, he’s headed over here.”

“Is something wrong?” Mercer placed his hand on her back, inappropriately low for the public.

“Oh, nothing’s wrong. While you are here, Clarisse was wondering if her Hubert could have Shaw’s cooking secrets.” Ragna leaned into Mercer. A barely inaudible sigh left her mouth.

“Mistress Frey, I wish you wouldn’t embarrass me so…” Clarisse laughed. “Apologies, Mercer. I complimented the meal… our dear Hubert has lost his taste buds with his age…”

“That is troubling. I scoured Glenumbra for Shaw. I won’t let his secrets go easily. I’ll think about it and send word on my decision.” Mercer leaned over and whispered in Ragna’s ear. He then turned to the others. “Ladies… It is becoming late. Your husbands are wishing to leave shortly.”

“It has become rather late… you will need to have another party soon.” Clarisse smiled.

“Yes. I will start on preparations for another.” Mercer smiled slightly.

“I hate all of this…” Ragna struggled with the bodice, eventually giving up with a sigh.

“You have been telling me since they have left.” Mercer sighed. “If we want to keep the money flowing and eyes off your extracurricular activities, we need to keep face. Come here.” He helped loosen the bodice of her dress. His hands lingered longer than needed. He pulled her close. Flush with his body. “But, I do owe you an apology.”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t think you could last the whole night. Meanwhile, I’ve been struggling.”

“Chatting with the boys wasn’t easy? Shocking.” She feigned concern.

“You want to know what they talked about?” He rested his head on her shoulder and whispered in her ear.

She shivered. “Enlighten me.”

“You. How I’m the lucky one to have a young wife. Attractive young wife that has an insatiable appetite.” He hummed.

“Mercer Frey!” She laughed. “If I was a true court lady…”

“You did well enough today to trick them. We both know what… who you really are.” He kissed the side of her neck. “Perhaps we should make a list of propositions before every party…”

“Oh? To stop me from spilling everything or you?”

“These nobles are gullible. Allowing common rabble to become nobles.” He unlaced the bodice. He gathered the pools of fabric and hefted them over Ragna’s head, leaving her in the slip. “As for your reward…”

Ragna arched her eyebrow. “Mine? This seems like yours?”

“You’re going to complain?” 


	8. Planes of Oblivion [Lyranth/Esmie]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ are you ready for a new oc? Never lol

“Well Esmie! You got yourself into big trouble this time!” The blonde hair Breton walked around the unnatural plane of Oblivion she had accidentally wandered into. By accident, she had purposely opened the portal and walked in on her own volition. She, however, hadn’t meant to trap herself. She tried to muster some magicka to open another. Nothing. She sighed heavily. 

She was going to be stuck here until she died. Or turned into a daedra. Or something. She shivered. Not that she was actually cold, no, because she was unsure of the outcome to this predicament. To make matters even worse, she didn’t know what plane of Oblivion she had opened and wandered onto. If she had an inkling of an idea she could at least muster something, anything.

She sighed again. She shivered again. This time due to a feeling. A bad feeling. A pit fell in her stomach. She summoned a clannfear that also looked around on edge. A snort came from its nostrils. It was agitated. Esmie looked around. She didn't see anything. She certainly felt  _ something. _

“It’s lost. Cold even.”

Esmie looked around.

“Frightened now. Has the mortal lost its way? Your pet can’t harm me.”

Esmie looked over when she heard her clannfear cry out. She felt a slight pang in her stomach when it disintegrated. “Where—“ She swiveled around, coming face to face with a dremora.

“How did the mortal get here?” The dremora leaned over and inspected the shorter mage. She hummed. “It has some skills. But, not enough to save itself.” She smirked.

Esmie back away. She tried to summon another daedra, but couldn’t get a hold of enough magicka. No. She couldn’t feel any magicka.

The dremora laughed. “You are in my realm, mortal. It walked in on its own.” She waved her hand. 

Esmie felt her magicka drain away. “Please…”

“Oh, the mortal wishes to beg?” The dremora rubbed her chin and waited.

Esmie cleared her throat and looked around. She put her hand over her racing heart and sighed. “I have intruded on your realm and I’m sorry. You are correct that I do not have the skills to get out on my own…” She looked up at the dremora, who placed her hand on her hip and continued to look over the Breton.

The dremora hummed. “At least it admits fault and lack of skills. Perhaps I can let it out. You will need to make a deal with me first mortal.”

Esmie gulped and nodded. “What will you have me do?” She looked into the dremora’s unearthly red eyes.

The dremora walked closer, placing her hand under Esmie’s chin, lifting it. “Your soul is mine when you die, mortal. I'll let you out if you agree. Otherwise, it stays here with me. And of course when it dies, its soul still belongs to me.”

“I have no choice either way.”

“No, you don’t.” The dremora backed away, smirking. 

Esmie still felt her fingertips on her cheek. She nodded. “If it’ll get me back to Nirn, my soul is yours.”

The dremora blinked and then laughed. “It’s serious.” She regained her composure. “Hold still. I will bind the mortal to me.” She took Esmie’s arm, slicing her wrist with a nail.

Esmie winced. She looked down at her wrist. Daedric lettering slowly formed there, fading in and out. The cut healed. The tattoo scar stayed. “Lyranth?” The dremora hummed in response. “Is that your name?” She nodded.

“You can call me master from now on, instead.” The dremora opened a portal. “I’ll see you again when you die.”


	9. Lessons in Control [Kor/Eleonora]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just started listing the relationship in the chapter title even if there’s no relationship yet.... sorry not sorry.  
> This was prompted by Searofyr! I think it was supposed to be more angsty but.... it turned into a comedy bc of the prompt... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ enjoy

Kor watched as his little sister left the Sanctuary for the third time that week. His eyes narrowed. Where could she be going? He trusted her. Even though last time she came home covered in a few scratches. Was she trying to leave again? He ran his hands through his hair, tangling it further.

She wouldn’t try to leave again.

Would she?

Kor groaned loudly, gaining the attention of the Bequeather. He apologized and the argonian nodded in response. 

Maybe Hildegarde just had more contracts than usual? He stood and made his way to Elam. Elam looked up at him from his book with arched eyebrows. “Are you looking for a contract for you and Hilde?” The dark elf tilted his head.

“You mean Hilde isn’t on a contract?”

“No. I was wondering why she was leaving without you. You don’t think…”

“She better not. I’ll go find her! She can’t have gone too far!” The Nord assassin took off.

Elam jumped up. “Kor! Wait….” Elam sighed as the Nord ran out of the Sanctuary. He shrugged, sat back down, and went back to his book. Kor could find Hildegarde with no trouble. No need to chase after him.

In his rush out, Kor hadn’t even changed out of his Dark Brotherhood clothing and of course was getting stares in Kvatch. He cursed. Why would she go here? He stopped by the stables and asked if they had seen Hilde. Or if she’d hired a carriage. Nothing. He cursed again.

Where was that girl?

Kor made his way back towards the Sanctuary. He knelt on the ground, looking for a trail. He saw her small footsteps. Why didn’t he do this sooner? He cursed at himself and followed after the trail.

It wasn’t long until he heard a howl and snarl. Then a yelp. Oh shit! He picked up his pace. Hopefully, Hildegarde was okay. He heard another voice.

“It’s okay. Calm down, little pup….” A woman’s voice said with an accent thicker than theirs. Another Nord? “There. I think you should shift back now.”

“Did I do better than last time?” Hildegarde responded.

“Aye—“

“Hilde!” Kor jumped out towards the two women. He looked between the two very naked women. The larger woman straddling Hildegarde who was pinned to the ground below, looking as though she had struggled or lost. He looked between them, cleared his throat, and turned around.

“Ah, it seems your brother has found out….” The woman stood up and walked past Kor, taller than him, gathering the clothing by the tree. He glanced over her larger frame. Muscles. Well suited for a hunter.

“Ah, Kor!” He looked back over at Hildegarde. “It… it’s not anything you are thinking it is!” Hildegarde stammered over her sentence as she struggled to her feet, covering up her body.

“Here, pup.” She tossed Hildegarde’s clothing to her. She put her own tunic and breeches on.

“Hildegarde, what are you thinking?! Are you hurt? Are you together? What’s going on here!?” He asked a million questions.

“Kor…” Hildegarde whined. “She’s…” She looked over at the larger Nord woman, biting her lip.

“Werewolf. Older than this pup. I ran into her. Offered her help… with control.” She pulled her messy brown hair into a half ponytail and smiled. “Now, that he knows, it’ll be easier for her to come to me?”

Kor stared, his mouth agape. “I don’t see why she couldn’t… But she might have… other business to attend?”

“Dark Brotherhood… I know.”

Kor arched his eyebrow and looked at Hildegarde. “Did you tell her?”

“No!”

“I know a killer when I smell one. Also, I know the Dark Brotherhood gear.” She sat down on a nearby rock, laughing as Kor looked at his own armor and cursed.

“Kor. This is Eleonora. She’s from Skyrim, as well. We ran into each other…” Hildegarde fixed her hair after dressing.

“2 weeks ago? You’re lucky it was me. Poor pup got scared and then lost.” Eleonora laughed as Hildegarde’s face turned red. “She almost lost control. Blood frenzy can do that. Especially when you haven’t learned to control your own shifting all the way. You just happened to catch us at an inconvenient time after shifting back.” She laughed.

Kor studied her face. “What you see is not what I see.”

“Oh?” Eleonora leaned over on her knees and tilted her head. “Really now?”

“Eleonora…” Hildegarde stood in front of her and blocked her view.

“Your brother seems to think we have an illicit relationship going on…. I don’t mind letting him think that...” She smiled.

“I’ll explain to him when we get back home… will you wait for me again?”

“Anytime, pup. I’ll be at my cabin.” Eleonora stood and waved as she walked off.

“Can we trust her? Ow. Why’d you hit me! I thought you’d run off again!” Kor rubbed his arm.

Hidegarde narrowed her eyes and looked at him. “I told you before I wasn’t leaving the Sanctuary, the Brotherhood or you like that again. I met her after a contract…. She is also a werewolf… If she trusts me…”

“I’ll keep an eye one her. I don’t trust her.”

“You just don’t like that she would also call you a pup… let’s just go home. You can ask me anything when we get there.” Hildegarde wrapped her arms around herself and walked to the Sanctuary.

“Wait up, Hilde…” Kor sighed as he chased after his little sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if I want to write for them all again.


	10. Which Plane of Oblivion? [Lyranth/Esmie]

“It comes to bother me again.” Lyranth looked up from her book as Esmie stepped through a portal. “It must really want to die.”

“Hardly.” Esmie hastily pulled back her hair into a messy bun and sat down at the table. “The Guild is pestering me to help with a daedra problem and these ancient tomes. Suddenly, I get myself attached to a dremora and they want my opinion on things.” Esmie leaned over on the table, covering her face with her hands. She sighed heavily. “Before they hated the idea of me dealing with daedra and Oblivion as much as I did.”

“It can bother someone else. A friend, you mortals are fond of. Or a pet. Mortals are fickle with loyalty but your furred companions aren’t.” The dremora shut her book and set it on the table, realizing the mortal mage was not going to leave anytime soon. “Perhaps it would like to be flayed? Drained of blood? We can hasten your death. I certainly can use someone with your power.” She smirked.

Esmie looked at the dremora and shook her head. “Divines, no. I needed some peace of mind…” The mage looked at the tattoo scar on her wrist. She traced the outline of the letter ‘Lyr’, that was bigger than the rest of the lettering. “Did binding my soul to you do something to me?” She studied the dremora’s face. Of course, she would have no tell.

“Besides tethering your soul to me and my plane, no. You coming here is still on your own volition.” Lyranth smirked while raising her eyebrows. “Perhaps you have some torment in store for you? I can certainly arrange that.”

Esmie shook her head. “No, thank you.” She smiled slightly. “As much as that honors me, I think I would like to decline.”

“You think?” Lyranth covered her mouth as she laughed. “I will at least admit the mortal has been good entertainment.”

“Well, you are stuck with me now.” The mage grinned. 

“The mortal is partially correct. I could very well take your soul now. There’s no need to wait until your mortal death.”

“There’d be no more enjoyment for you. I know how you daedra always try to make a game out of things. ‘How long can the Mortal endure through this hardship?’ Or something along that line.”

Lyranth raised her brow and smiled. “Well, the mortal certainly has us figured out. I do wonder, how long until you come here and beg me to take your soul?” She tapped her finger against her chin.

“I have no intentions of a premature death. Not on Nirn or here. If that’s what you're referring to. But, I also have no ideas about what the future holds.”

Lyranth studied the mage’s face. “Some undue hardship will certainly send you back to my realm. If your colleagues can send you here in a huff over some silly mortal argument, I am curious to see what hardships would seriously send you over the edge.” Lyranth licked her lips, anticipating the idea of Esmie’s soul.

“Ah, well. I find your realm rather calming compared to Mundus.” The mage sighed heavily. “You don’t question my obsession with Oblivion…”

“Well, it got you to my realm, and I get a soul out of it. I don’t mind. Besides,” Lyranth grabbed her book and opened it to the page she left off, “I can certainly send you back to Nirn. Or somewhere else? Coldharbour. Deadlands…. Maybe even Evergloam.”

“Either here, or Nirn. What if another daedra got a hold of me and my soul?”

The dremora lowered the book and looked at Esmie over the pages; her eyebrows were furrowed. “Well, I will certainly need to have a fight over what belongs to me, won’t I? I won’t freely hand over the mortal’s soul.” She raised the book with a slight disgruntled huff, causing Esmie to laugh.


	11. I love you [Walks/Naarchel]

“You know how much I love you, right?” The Argonian thief tilted his head to his partner, a Bosmer. Chel’s face turned red as she nearly fell over. He chuckled. “Don’t fall for me, now…”

She shook her head and pulled at her hair. She leaned against the wall they were huddled behind. “Let’s… let’s just finish this heist….” She huffed and then ran off when the guard turned his back. She watched the guard and then signaled to the Argonian, who darted over towards her. Walks leaned his back against the wall and pressed up next to the smaller elf. Her face flushed and she shook her head, groaning. “We are in the middle of a heist….” She looked at him.

He held a finger to his mouth. “Shhh.”

She raised her hand like she was going to hit him but didn’t. She glared. She shook her ehd and then moved down the wall. She peeked around the corner. All clear. She ran across the alley opening and to the next wall. She made sure it was clear before signaling to her Argonian partner. 

“This is almost like you are playing hard to get with me.” He whispered in her ear.

“Walks!” She fell over.

“Shh…!” Walks grabbed her arm and pushed her against the wall. “Look, you got us guests, Naarchel.” He whispered. He trailed a claw from her jaw down her neck and leaned in close. She shivered as she felt his breath on her neck. “Don’t move. Don’t talk too much.” He nudged her neck with his scaly nose as two guards rounded the corner, swords drawn. Chel locked eyes with one of the guards. Her face turned red as Walk circled his arm around her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder. She looked away, trying to hide her embarrassment.

“This is a restricted area, you two.” One of the guards said.

Walks tilted his head and frowned a bit. His feathers drooped. “Apologies… We had seen it was...quiet and deserted…. Decided to come here, away from vigilant eyes… if you catch my meaning.” He pulled Chel closer to him.

One of the guards cleared his throat. “I’ll let you off with a warning. Just clear out before we change our mind.”

“Yes sirs. Thank you… Let’s go… we can sneak our way into an inn.” Walks held onto her waist as they walked out of the restricted area. “That was close…”

“Don’t joke with me like that when we are on the job…!” Chel pouted.

“Well, I did take it too far. But, I meant what I said.” He pushed her back against a nearby wall, trailing his fingers down her jawline. “I love you, Chelaran.” He said her real name.


	12. Wife [Mercer Frey/Ragna]

“For fucks sake, Ragna!” Mercer pulled away, holding his bloodied nose. “Be more gentle!”

“Stop jerking AWAY! Let me clean the blood off.” The half Maormer held her hand on his cheek gently. “Here you were worried about your ‘wife’ causing issues and you go and pick a fight with some poor sod.” Mercer grunted. “Besides, you know I’m not a gentle soul.” She scoffed. She held a rag under his nose. “That poor sod got you good….” She looked at the cut on his lip and chin.

“Hopefully he’s off worse.”

“I would hope. What did you even get into a fight for?” Mercer grunted in response. Ragna closed her eyes and sighed. “Well, don’t tell me then. Is it still bleeding?” Ragna moved the rag away. “Any other wounds?”

“He said something about you. About what he would do to you.”

“Ah, being protective of your wife?”

Mercer growled and pulled Ragna into his lap. “You are my wife. We made our vows in front of a Mara Priest and ran off here to Daenia.”

Ragna narrowed her eyes. “Watch out! You’re still bleeding everywhere.” She pushed his face away from hers, careful to not hurt him or get blood on anything.

He laughed. “Did you believe I would actually get into a fight over you?”

Ragna pursed her lips. “I believe a lot of things, Mercer Frey. But not you. Now. Let me go so I can get ice for your extra big head.”

“Hmm. I think I like the way you feel and fit in my lap.” He tightened his grip around her waist.

“I swear…”

“This was your choice, Ragna Frey. You wanted me. You got me. You are stuck with me.”

“That’s what you think.”

He groaned and winced when she slammed her lips on his split one. “Why?”

“I thought I was your wife…?” She smirked.


	13. Anxiety (Walks-Softly/Naarchel)

Naarchel knelt on the ground, covering her pointed ears. It was too loud in the market. No. It was just as busy as usual. She took a deep breath, attempting to catch it. Her heart pounded in her chest and fluttered about. Why did this keep happening?! A wave of heat and then a wave of chills spread through her body. She shivered.

“Naarchel..?”

The Wood Elf looked up at the Argonian standing above her. She felt her grasp of control waver when she locked eyes with him. Her eyes began to water. She cursed at the same time as Walks-Softly. She felt sick.

“Let’s get you home.” He offered his hand, which she took. She held her head as she followed after him. “What happened?” He looked back for a moment and she shook her head. “That’s okay; talk if you want. I’m all ears for you.” He darted down into a shady alleyway. A twisting labyrinth of brick wall and wood planks. The way home.

Naarchel felt a small release when she saw the familiar blue shingled roof of their home. The Den. Home.

Walks opened the door and helped her down the ladder. He sat her down before the secret entrance. “Was it a guard? Your family?” 

She shook her head. “It got loud all of a sudden… I’m sorry.” She wiped her face off as she felt the tears stream uncontrollably. She hiccupped. “I got overwhelmed…”

Walks ran his hand through her hair. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”

“I know… hic.”

“You did a lot last weekend. Without a hitch. It’s okay. Can I hold you?” He brought her close once she nodded. “You’re allowed to have a bad day. I’m here for you.” He ran his hand down her back and pulled her closer. “We can take a break until you feel better. Do you want to get out of Abah’s Landing?” He hummed. “Perhaps to Black Marsh? Or Morrowind? Maybe Skyrim. Away from here and certainly not Dominion held territory.”

Chel shook her head in his chest. “We can-hic-stay here.”

“Okay.” He let go of her and knelt in front of her. He held her hands and stroked them with his scaly fingers. “Do you want some food? Or a drink? I’m sure there’s some fruit and dried meat snacks.” The Bosmer nodded. “Alright, let’s get inside then okay.” He stood and helped her up.


	14. Outdrink [Henrik Seven-swords/Seselia]

Seselia stared at the fire pit in one of the few sturdy dwellings in town, waiting for the stew to finish. Her stomach rumbled loudly and she grimaced. “Divines, I’m hungry.” She groaned and looked towards the door when it opened. Henrik Seven-Swords walked in, shaking the rain off his cloak. “You get caught in a Maormer storm?” Seselia grinned.

“You have no idea…” The older Nord walked over after dispatching his wet cloak to the floor and sat down next to Nordic Shield-maiden. “It’s been raining non-stop. I was helping that old man get a damned tarp over that hole in his damned hall.”

Seselia laughed. She leaned over and stirred the stew. “I’m so famished…. Found some more of the missing townsfolk. In a spriggan infested forest….” She leaned back and tugged at her short hair.”

Henrik put a hand on her shoulder. “They’re simple folk. They get scared and run where it's clear.” He stood up and walked over to the broken cabinet, pulling out a bottle of honey colored liquid.

She clicked her tongue. “I know.” She looked at him, missing the warmth from his hand. “Hid the mead from me?”

“Hid? Never.” He grabbed a couple of mugs and walked back over, handing her a filled mug full of mead. “Tucked it out of sight from a notorious mead thief.”

Seselia nearly choked on her mead. “You remembered that? It was only that one time.”

“You were in the middle of a test, too.” Henrik took a long sip of the mead. “Surprised you passed it, given how absolutely sloshed you were. Would’ve given Sanguine a run for his gold.”

“What can I say? I have many talents and fighting inebriated is one of them.” She grinned and looked into the mug. Mara’s mercy. Hopefully this alcohol wouldn’t make her spill everything. Like she did the other night to her dear old friend. 

“Something wrong? Don’t tell me. You’re drunk already?” Her old mentor laughed.

“I can out drink you anytime, Henrik Seven-swords.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Well, maybe another day. When our services aren't needed in the morn.”


	15. Control Rod [Mischa Adelipoika]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mischa is the son of Adelina and Hircine and part of a set of triplets.   
> Ofc Salyn belongs to my dear dear friend Searofyr!

“Where did I put it…?” Ten year old Mischa rummaged through his stuff in his room. Papers flew around his room in a frenzy. “It was here this morning.” The small boy crawled around on the floor, looking under the rustic wood furniture. Under anything for the item he was missing. He turned his head when he heard giggling from outside his room. His older sisters. He flopped over on the fur rug on his floor and groaned loudly. Of course, his sisters would take his precious items from his uncles. He pulled at his hair.

“Are you missing something, Mischy?” The taller of the sisters, Moira, walked into view. Meena stood behind her with a grin. 

Of course the two older sisters would take after their father’s pale Nordic appearance. White blonde hair. Striking ice blue eyes. Here Mischa looked more like his Nedic mother. Dark hair, dark eyes. The only thing he had from his father was soft down fur on his parts of his body.

He sighed heavily. “Did you guys take Axle’s control rod?”

“Do you know what he’s talking about, Meena?”

Meena shook her head. “Absolutely not, Moira. What are you talking about  _ deer _ brother?” The shorter of the sisters took a jab.

Mischa sighed heavily. “The control rod. Uncle gave it to me. From Clockwork City.”

“I haven't seen anything like that.”

He groaned. “I need that rod for Axle…” Mischa pushed passed them and walked down the pathway to outside.

“Just have them make another… Can’t be that hard.” The twins laughed and went the opposite direction.

Mischa walked over to the small pond near his room (a personal hut) and knelt down. Of course his sisters would do something to the control rod. They didn’t understand any of it. He sniffed and wiped his face as he felt his eyes well up with tears. If they saw him…

He jumped when he heard leaves rustling near him. But he was relieved when he saw it was his mother, Adelina. The Mother of Hunters. Wife of the Daedric Prince of the Hunt, Lord Hircine.

She looked him over and tilted her head. She looked around. She signed to him and then walked over, sitting next to him. Her legs went over the edge of the pond and into the water.

“Meena and Moira took Axle’s control rod. Without it he can’t move.”

Adelina pursed her lips and signed again. She crossed her arms, looking conflicted.

“They are saying they don’t know what I’m talking about but…” He sniffed.

Adelina scooped up Mischa and pulled him close. She ran her hand through his short hair and kissed his cheek. She engulfed the boy with as much love as she could muster. And more.

Mischa hiccupped as a cry left his throat while his mother consoled him. “Uncle Salyn and Uncle Sil got it for my birthday. I was going to see them today…” He held onto his mother’s leather clothing tightly. “I wanted to show them what I’d done.”

_ ‘You can still show them.’ _ Adelina used telepathy to talk with him.  _ ‘Let's find this rod. I’ll have a talk with Moira and Meena. Okay?’ _ She used her hand and wiped his face off. She smiled softly.  _ ‘Shall I make this a Hunt? Axle’s control rod is my hare?’ _

Mischa smiled slightly and nodded. “Please…”


	16. Laceration [Mercer Frey/Ragna]

“Fuck!” Ragna barged in the back door of her estate, soaking wet and bleeding from her leg. She stumbled over to the table and chair, sitting down while cursing. “Mercer! Fuck. Gertrude!” She leaned over on the table clutching the oozing, gaping wound on her thigh.

The old maid ran in first. “Oh, deary. I’ll get the kit and your husband.” She turned and squealed when she ran straight into Master Frey.

“I’m here.” He looked at Ragna and sighed. “Fuck Ragna, you got blood everywhere.” Mercer moved out of Gertrude’s way and walked over to his wife. He grabbed a knife.

“Hold on. I like these pants!” Ragna stood up and struggled with her pants.

“We can get you new ones.” He pushed her on the table and used the knife to cut her pant leg, exposing the deep wound. Mercer whistled. “What happened?”

“Bloody Gaerose hired a mercenary.” Ragna struggled to remove the other pant leg. It took Mercer’s help to get it off. “I barely made it in when he attacked. Dagger, I think. It was dark. I felt it more than saw it.” Ragna looked around, realizing she should've kept her activities quiet.

“Only Gertrude is here. Sent everyone else off on holiday. Lucky for you.” Mercer took the handkerchief from his pocket and held it on the wound, attempting to stop the bleeding. “He got you good.”

Ragna bit her lip, nearly drawing blood. She groaned and leaned back. “No shit. Damn it.”

“He didn’t see you, did he?” Mercer trailed his fingers up her cheek and through her wet hair.

“I was wearing my mask and hood. Took it off on our property.”

“Good. Ah, Gertrude returns. Thank you. I’ll handle this.” Mercer took the kit. “I’m blessed to have you Gertrude and your quietness. I’ll have your proper amount of gold for you in the morning.”

“Oh, come now Master Frey. I didn’t hear a thing as usual.”

“Nonsense. I’ll call for you if I need you.” Gertrude left with a bow. Mercer shook his head and looked at Ragna. “This is going to hurt.”

Ragna squinted. “You enjoy this way too much.”

“And obviously you do as well or you wouldn’t get hurt as often.” He hummed and set the kit down on the table next to her. “We should probably get a healer.” He looked over the deep laceration. “I can probably stitch it up, but it’ll leave a scar.”

“You’d be the only one to see it. I don’t want to deal with a healer asking questions.” She shrugged. “Can I drink beforehand? Need something to numb the pain. Or at least let me forget about it.”

Mercer nodded and walked over to the cabinet. He pulled out a small decanter and handed it Ragna. “I probably should drink, too.” He took a clean rag from the kit and doused it in a liquid. “It’s gonna hurt to Oblivion and back.” He smirked before pouring some of the liquid on her wound.

She squirmed before Mercer held her down. Ragna bit on the palm of her hand. Once Mercer removed the rag, she cursed. “Fucking Oblivion.”

He handed her a new dry cloth. “Hold the rag there. Let me clean and dry my hands off before I start to close the wound.” Mercer walked to the basin and washed off his hands.

Meanwhile, Ragna threw back the liquor in the decanter. “Fucking hell. Why did I slip up so bad?” She sighed heavily and laid down on the table. “Just, hurry it up.”

Mercer nodded. “You slipped up because you’re no longer in a  _ mischief _ that has your back.” He rummaged through the kit grabbing a hook and almost translucent thread. “You want the wooden spoon?”

“I’ll use my hand.”

“Don’t make me have to stitch that too.” He laughed.

With Mercer’s help, Ragna got off the table. She held onto his arm and made her way to the stairs. “Let me guess, you need me to carry you.” She faced him, squinting. “You know you’ll owe me.” He smirked.

“I owe you a lot, Mercer Frey.” She leaned against his chest. “The worst part is that I didn’t get anything from the damned house.”

“Well, you’ll be out of commission for a bit until I can take those stitches out. Don’t pout.” Mercer scooped Ragna up and then ascended the stairs to their room. “I wonder if I should invite the Gaerose’s over for tea or supper. See if they are doing okay?” He arched an eyebrow and smirked.

Ragna leaned her head on his shoulder and inhaled his scent. “I’d be okay with that. I don’t know what lies I can tell for my leg.”

“We can think of something if I invite them. And here we are.” He put her down on the bed.

“Thank you.”


	17. Joining the Dawnguard [Elaninde]

“Are you here to join the Dawnguard?” A Breton man with ruddy hair approached the tall High Elf. She nodded. “Well, Isran’s inside. Not much of a talker, are ya? That’s okay. We need vampire hunters. Well, get inside. He’s training someone else.”

Elaninde opened the double doors into the fort, getting the attention of two men in the middle of the foyer. She lowered her mage hood and took a deep breath. She knew once she laid eyes upon the man named Isran, he’d know exactly who she was. What she was. A vampire.

He was upon her once she opened her eyes. Elaninde rubbed the reddening cheek that he’d struck with his gauntlet. “Who let this bloodsucker in here?!” He pointed the crossbow at her, firing it without a care.

Elaninde gasped as the bolt struck her shoulder. “W-wait…” She held her hand out covered in her own blood. “I… I want to bring information… about the vampire plot. The prophecy...” She let out a shuddered sigh and she grasped at her shoulder.

He reloaded the crossbow and aimed it at her. He looked over at his comrades. “Get the chains. Put her in a cell.”

“Isran, wait…!” A vigilant of Stendarr came from the back.

Isran looked at the vigilant. He grimaced. “Not now, Adalvald. Take her to the cell. Be careful with the bloodsucker. I’ll let her rot in the cell.”

“I will go with no fuss… I… mean no harm… I swear...” Elaninde pushed to her feet and grimaced. She followed after several of the Dawnguard members, knowing full well she had no chance of escape with this many crossbows at her back.

“Isran… she’s the vampire that set me free in Dimhollow…” The injured vigilant followed after Isran. “At least listen, to what she has to say…”

“Has none of our training stuck with you?”

“You are the fighter. Not me….” Adalvald frowned.

“I’ll think of something to do with you, bloodsucker.” Isran pushed her into the cell.

Elaninde fell forward, landing on her injured shoulder. She gasped and cursed as the bolt snapped at her skin, leaving the other half embedded. She’d have to cut into her own flesh to get it. She looked up at Isran, tears welling in her eyes.

“Serves you right.” He slammed the cell door and locked it.

Elaninde pulled herself to the wall and braced her back against it. She took a rag and shoved it in her mouth. She’d worry about retrieving the bolt. For now she needed to stop the slow bleeding before she lost control. She readied a fireball—her favorite element to use— and let it discharge on the wound, cauterizing it. She screamed into the rag. She felt like she wanted to vomit. She might actua— She heaved. 

The Vampire looked up when she heard footsteps. Adalvald. He handed her a cup of water. It’s the thought that counted. She drank it, though it did nothing to ease her thirst.

“Why are you here?” He watched her as she tilted her head, thinking of what she would say. “Are you truly here to help us? Vampire hunters. We detest your kind. Go out and hunt you vermin down.” The vigilant clenched his fist.

Elaninde leaned her head back. “I exiled myself from the Volkihar Clan.”

“Why not go into hiding?”

“I don’t want the world plunged into darkness nor do I want my kind to rule Nirn….” Elaninde looked at him. “How are your wounds? I’m glad you made it.”

“It’s not a ploy to infiltrate the fort, is it?”

Elaninde struggled to laugh. She coughed. “I traipsed in here to bring doom. No, I am glad you made it out. I don’t like the way… my clan has… treated…” Her head fell forward. She passed out.


	18. When you’re Sober [Razum-dar/Vashmhirra]

“You’ve had too much to drink, kitten.” The strong tawny Khajiit grabbed the smaller woman by her upper arm, helping her stumble to her feet. He ran a paw through her thick burgundy tresses, untangling the mess. She mumbled and then leaned against his strong chest. “Raz can’t understand when you lean into his chest like that and mumble. Whether it's in Ta’agra or not.” He chuckled.

“Mhirra ‘snot drunk. She only had a little…” She said louder and clearer. She hiccupped.

Razum-dar raised his eyebrows. “2 bottles of sweet wine….” He sighed. “I suppose you are allowed after everything that has happened. Raz will watch over you until you sober up.” He helped her walk to the inn, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. He sat her down on a sofa as he went to talk to the innkeeper. He returned to Vashmhirra. “Mhirra…” She looked at him and smiled. “Raz has gotten you a room now. Let’s go.” He helped the Ohmes to her feet and up the stairs to her room. “Go lay on the bed. Raz will watch over you.”

“Will Raz join Mhirra?” She purred as she flopped over on the soft cushioned bed. She buried her body in the countless Altmer pillows and quilts, inhaling the sweet scent wafting from the clean inn room.

Raz strode over to the bed and sat down. “Raz will stay until you either sober up or fall asleep. That is all he can do for now.”

Vashmhirra raised her head and pouted. “What if Mhirra got more wine for Raz? This one can get more for you. For us.”

Razum-dar placed his paw on her cheek. She pressed into it, closing her eyes. “While this one would love to have some fun with you, Mhirra, it’s much more important to Raz for you to be sober.”

She puffed her cheeks out and poured. “Is it because Mhirra doesn’t have a tail or fur!?”

Razum-dar blinked. “Has someone been telling you silly lies again? Raz likes Mhirra for who she is. Another lovely Khajiit working for our equally lovely Queen.”

Her cheeks turned red and she grinned. “You think Mhirra is lovely?”

“Which is why it’s important for you to ask Raz about company when you are sober, kitten.” He laughed. “Now, go to sleep. Raz will be around when you wake up.”


	19. Laceration 2 [Mercer Frey/ Ragna]

“You wouldn’t believe it Lord Frey. A thief in my house. Luckily, Raphael was there. Cut that thief down.” Lord Gaerose chortled as his wife cleared her throat and gave him a stern look. “Oh, alright, Camille, don’t look at me like that. Raphael only managed to spook the thief off. Left a bloody mess. They never had a chance to take anything.”

“How fortunate for Raphael and for you. Though, it frightens me that Daenia is also plagued with thieves and brigands.” Ragna frowned as she placed her cup down. “Perhaps we should hire a bodyguard as well?” She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked at her husband, trying to look scared.

Mercer nodded. “Yes. I can look into that if it puts you at ease, my love.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Whatever makes you feel better.”

“Thank you.”

“I can get you into contact with some men I know.”

“Thank you Lord Gaerose. I’m blessed to have your friendship. I’ll gladly take that contact. Now,” Mercer stood up, “shall we retire to the parlor for dessert and drinks?”

“That’d be splendid.” The lord stood up and helped his own wife, Camille to her feet.

Mercer offered his hand to Ragna. She shook her head. “You can go on without me, I shall only keep you waiting.” Ragna frowned as she waved away her husband.

“Has something happened?” Camille looked over them both, worry on her face.

“She took a spill down the stairwell. Cut her leg. I’ll have Gertrude take you both to the parlor. My wife and I will be there as soon as we can.”

“Don’t push yourself, dear.” The older couple followed after the head maid.

Once they were out of earshot, Ragna spoke up. “If you hire a guard…”

“Stop acting like a scared and meek little kitten. Damn it, Ragna.” Mercer ruffled up his hair and sighed. He helped Ragna to her feet. “Does your leg even hurt?” He ran his hand over the fabric of her dress near her leg. She winced back into the table. Mercer apologized as he saw tears forming in her eyes. “Apparently, it still does. Would you like me to carry you to the parlor? Like some haughty princess?”

Ragna shook her head and furrowed her eyebrows. She let out a rather loud sighed. “No. That would be highly unladylike of me. I’ll walk slowly. Limp slowly.”

“They would most certainly understand.” He offered his arm to her. “We can walk slowly.”

Ragna leaned into Mercer. “Do you think they suspect a thing? That it was me?” She said in a whisper.

“I would hope not. You put on a good show with wanting a bodyguard. Though it’s not like anyone could get past you or me in stealing anything.” He laughed. “Well, we finally made it.” He helped Ragna sit down in a chair.

“My apologies. That tumble was far worse than I imagined.”

“Oh, don’t apologize, dear.” Camille gave her a look of concern. “I’d say you are holding up remarkably well if you are allowing guests over. That says a lot. Thank you for requesting our company.”

“Lady Gaerose, you came over on such short notice and after you were nearly robbed. Please, I should be in much better shape if I am to tend to guests. And here, I am letting my dear husband take care of the reins.” Ragna laughed. “Please let’s at least enjoy some dessert and tea. Or perhaps some brandy?” She raised her eyebrows and smiled.

Ragna groaned loudly as she flopped over on the couch. She raised her skirt to inappropriate levels as she ran her hand across the cut on her leg. “Divines! I thought they’d never leave!” She ran her hands through her hair and groaned again.

“Here.” Mercer handed her a cup.

Ragna leaned forward, taking the cup. “Ah, good. Rum is what I need. Something to dull this pain in my leg and this ever growing headache.” She took a long drink, nearly finishing the cup. “Maybe we should hire a guard.”

“Did Camille convince you?” Mercer sat down next to her, scooting the skirt over so he had room. 

“Not for the reason you are thinking. We need someone in our field that we can pay handsomely for their loyalty. Like Gertrude. But with muscle.” Ragna looked over at her maid with a smile. “No offense is intended. I value your loyalty and honesty. And all your work. I do not want to put you in harm's way. You are much too valuable to this family.”

“I take no offense, deary.” Gertrude smiled. “I can search around for some strong lads I know.”

“You are ever the blessing. What would we do without you?” Ragna laughed. She finished the contents of her cup. “We’d be in shambles for sure.” She sighed and leaned back. “Can you help me out of this gods forsaken heap of fabric?” She looked over at Mercer, who rolled his eyes, but ran his hand down the buttons on the side of her dress.

“I’ll leave you two and go clean up.” Gertrude shook her head and made a hasty retreat out of the parlor.


	20. (Dropped Summerset) Adelina hunts [Hircine/Adelina]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Repost because the project was dropped. But I love Adelina so, I wanted to have this up. I may continue this on my own.

Adelina’s blood pulsed through her veins as she ran across the Summerset countryside. Her muscles burned with the need to shift. She’d been sent on a mission. Grab an indrik heart for her lord. Her mate, the Daedric Prince, Lord Hircine. 

She stopped. A new scent hit her nostrils. She quickly stripped her clothing, haphazardly leaving it where it landed. She charged in the direction of the scent, gracefully shifting into her pure black wolf form.

She saw movement in the distance. Her prey. A majestic white indrik. She hunkered down to the ground and slowly stalked the creature. She paused when it raised his head. It’s nostrils flared, smelling around for predators. It’s ears swiveled around listening for movement. Adelina slowed her breathing. It hadn’t spotted her yet. At least not her direct location. She took slow steps carefully placing each paw in a place that wouldn’t make noise.

She pounced. 

Her body landed with a thud on the ground. 

It was gone.

Her lip curled as a silent growl left her snout. She looked in the direction of the magical beast. It pawed at the ground and snorted. It teleported in a blink and rammed Adelina in the side.

She cursed. She held onto her side with her large paw. Her ears pinned back as she howled. No sound came out, but it still made the indrik nervous. Adelina charged. It teleported again, charging electricity on its horns. Adelina snorted and stared at the indrik. 

It let loose of the electricity it had been building. The direct attack missed her, but arcs of lightning shocked her. She felt her fur raise on end. She shook the feeling and charged at the indrik again.

It teleported, but not far enough. Adelina guessed and swiped her paw. Her claws raked across the beast’s shoulder. Deep. It let out a cry and teleported again. It limped away. She pounced. Her claws pierced through its hide. It bellowed and collapsed under her weight. She bit the back of its neck, slowly adding pressure. Blood coated her mouth, stained her fur and pooled around their bodies.

She released once the beast stopped moving. She licked the blood off her snout and her claws. 

She swiveled her head around when she heard more hoofbeats. 

Another indrik? Drawn in by the commotion? 

A raspy silent laugh left her snout as she looked it over. Fine, another heart for her Lord Husband.

The indrik corpses piled up as more found her. Protecting their own? Protecting the area? She shook her head. It didn’t matter. They attacked; she retaliated.

She allowed her shift to take over. She began to field dress the indriks. Her lord had only asked for a heart. Perhaps she went overboard? He would still accept the hearts, regardless.

New scents hit her nose. She heard talking. Adelina turned her head. Two Dunmer stood on the hill overlooking the mound of indrik corpses. Overlooking her surrounded by indrik corpses. Covered in indrik blood. They all stared at each other for a while. She recognized the taller man. His long silver locks billowed in the wind.

Where had she seen him before? She squinted at the taller Dunmer.

_ ‘What’s wrong, my hunter?’ _ Lord Hircine spoke telepathically to her as he felt her heart racing.

_ ‘I’ve been spotted. They don’t seem hostile. Yet… I recognize one of them. Tall dunmer…. Long silver hair. Maybe last Era? or…?’ _

_ ‘I’ll come there.’ _

_ ‘No, my hart, please. I can handle this.’ _

A spectral Indrik appeared near the mound of refuse. Indrik corpses. It looked around, studying the two Dunmer and it looked at Adelina and the pile of corpses. He sighed. “Adelina….”

_ ‘What?’ _ She crossed her arms.  _ ‘You wanted a heart….’ _

“I said one. Not the entire herd.” Hircine sighed and pawed at the ground. In spectral form, his actions had no effect on the physical world. “Clean up the mess, properly.” Adelina threw her hands up and walked back over to the pile. “And your clothing…” Spectral indrik Hircine walked up the hill to the two Dunmer. “Sotha Sil.”


	21. Loyalty [Stibbons/Zephyrine]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s short but it doesn’t need to be long! Zephyrine is cousins to Gabrielle and Sara. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Stibbons! Stibbons, where are you!?” The haughty Lady Laurent burst into the small inn room unannounced. She took a quick look around the room, spotting only a sole woman, another scholar, sitting at the desk. “Have you seen my manservant, Lady Benele?”

The scholar looked up from her notebook, moving her black wavy locks from her face. “Odd, Stibbons was here moments ago….” She tilted her head and looked around the room. “I heard my cousins earlier, perhaps Gabrielle and Sara know where he is. You should ask them, Clarisse.” She smiled.

Lady Laurent took one final look around the room. She sighed. “If you see him before I do, please tell him it is most imperative that he makes it to my lodgings. I have found another mission for me. I would need him to come along as usual.”

“If I see him, I will pass along the message.” The scholar went back to her notebook, ignoring Lady Laurent, who left when she realized there was no hope here. Once she was out of ear shot, the scholar stood up from the table and walked over to the bed. “She’s gone for now.” She helped the older man out from under the bed. “Why don’t you tell her no?”

“Zephyrine…” The balding Breton sat on the bed and sighed, pursing his lips. “You know it’s really hard to….”

“You have options.” Zephyrine sat down next to him. “I am sure there are other Scholars in need of help and they certainly would treat you and pay you better.”

Stibbons looked her over and then shook his head. “It’s not that easy…”

“It certainly is. Look… if you won’t say or do anything then, I will.” She stood up only for Stibbons to grab her wrist. She looked back at him.

“Zephyrine. While I appreciate the sentiment, I really cannot deny Lady Laurent.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You can.” She put her hand over his. “Listen…. I know it’s been a long time of being with Lady Laurent and catering to her every mystical whim…. but instead of presenting yourself to her today. You hid.” She removed his hand from her wrist and stroked his knuckles. “I am proud of you for that.” She sighed. “However.”

“There’s always a however with you.” He managed a nervous chuckle.

Zephyrine smiled. “I know you can do more and refuse to go with her.” Zephyrine let go of his hand and walked to the window. “Besides,  _ I  _ could use someone to help me with my next mission. I certainly wouldn’t allow misfortune to befall.”


	22. Mead [Kor/Eleonora]

The massive werewolf inhaled deeply. Someone was in her forest. And not the person she was expecting. No. Someone else. Someone uninvited. She felt a growl in her throat as she made her way towards the uninvited man. 

There he was. Walking through her forest.

She fought back the urge to maul him. But couldn’t stop the urge to pounce. A growl left her gaping maw. She leapt. Down he went. She landed on him. He groaned. She held her paws on him and narrowed her eyes.

“Eleonora!!! By Sithis. You almost sent me to the Void.” The large Nord nearly screamed. He pushed on her chest with all his might.

“If only we should be so lucky.” She huffed out a laugh. She backed off him and shook. “Hilde is not with you?”

Kor shook his head. “Contract and I couldn’t go with her.” He threw his hands in the air. “Of all the things they decided to impose on that.”

“And you came here because?” She tilted her head.

“You have authentic mead.”

Eleonora huffed. “There’s mead at the tavern.” She shook and then scratched at her neck with her back paw.

Kor frowned. “You make your mead. It’s way better than whatever bee piss they serve at the tavern.” He watched her chest ripple with a laugh. Her dark fur glistened in the patchy sunlight as she made her way to her cabin. He stood and followed after the werewolf.

Eleonora stretched out her body after she transformed back to her mortal form. She groaned when her back popped. She shivered slightly as a breeze blew past her naked body. Eleonora walked into her house and quickly threw on a leather shirt and breeches. “You are lucky I have control. You are also lucky Hilde cares for you. Most other wolves…”

Kor shook his head as he cut Eleonora off. “I’m a hunter. I think I can handle a werewolf.”

Eleonora arched an eyebrow and laughed. “Oh. yes absolutely. The hunter and assassin thinks he can take on a werewolf.” She leaned against her makeshift dresser. The heavy wood groaned under her weight.

“I have done it before.”

“The wee pup thinks he can take me on?” She pushed herself off the dresser and took two steps towards him. Despite both being Nords, Eleonora still towered over Kor by half a head, at least. She certainly outweighed him in muscle. 

But he needed to be lithe for his job compared to her body meant for power and the hunt.

“I didn’t say I could take  _ you _ on. That would certainly be madness. I might as well send myself to the Void.” Kor shook his head. “Some pups aren’t smart. Or strong. Or frankly good enough to be a wolf. You on the other hand….” he tilted his head and looked her over. 

“Me on the other hand?

Kor ruffled up his hair and groaned. “Nevermind it. Just share your mead with me already.”

Eleonora hummed. “If you’re worried about me hurting Hilde, I won’t.”

“Kyne’s breath….” Kor exasperated. “I didn’t mean anything like that. Hilde trusts you and so should I.”

“And I don’t plan on telling any authorities about the illicit activities that said authorities initiate.” Eleonora laughed and walked over to her dresser. She pulled out two bottles of mead and threw one at Kor. “Besides, if I can trust you and Hilde with my condition…”

“Hilde would likely murder me if I did anything to you.”

“Likewise.” She chuckled and downed half a bottle of the sweet amber colored alcohol. She took a deep breath afterwards. “You would not believe the ordeal I went through to get the honey for this batch.”

“Enlighten me.”


End file.
